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Bird of Habit

LuxAeterna

Bluelighter
Joined
Feb 20, 2002
Messages
82
Location
Australia
i saw you cleaning your wings again, to fly above us all, never worried about the dangers, those eyes, clear as piercing ice, warm as the fires core, i remember that voice you wore, like you never saw restriction, you the worlds caretaker, you held us in your arms, and flew, so high, this time too high, and you burned, i still remember your fall, my bird of habit, i brush past hidden damaged wings, a damaged look upon that floor, i dont recognise that voice you wore, like the world was spinning in your head, and you couldnt take the burden, so you lost yourself between the sheets of forgotten pasts, oh so temporarily, but those eyes, clear as piercing ice, warm as the fires core, does the mirror still remind you, my bird of habit, i heard you call out my name, as my life rushed past yours, i didnt recognise that voice you wore, like somewhat content, yet somewhat bored, stability doesnt wear you well, you never looked right upon your feet, so i wonder at that smile, what news does it bare, with those eyes, clear as piercing ice, warm as the fires core, does your bed comfort you at night, or do you sneak out to climb the trees, holding on to memories, wondering whether you should have never sold your wings, my bird of habit
(an old piece, i was hoping people could share their thoughts)
 
Lux,
May I recommend you make this a poem by cutting out the repetitive, non-essential words and phrases, using language as concrete as possible, in lines that keep the attention focused and moving forward? Like so.
you clean your wings again,
to fly above the dangers,
eyes piercing ice,
that voice you wore like restriction,
the world's caretaker held in your arms,
so high, too high, and you burned,
bird of habit, a damaged look
on that floor, that voice
spinning in your head,
and you couldn't take
the burden, lost between sheets:
you call out
I think those are the most inventive and evocative phrases. The rest is just blather. Try to resist the temptation to repeat a good phrase or image--it gets devalued with every repetition. I like the mystery of the writing, and I tried to make it more mysterious. You use an Icarus image mixed with a kind of morbid diction of dependency--eros/thanatos dynamic--and while the habit could well be a drug habit in your mind, in the poem itself habit can be any sort of reflexive, unthinking and limiting behavior or feeling that draws one closer to death by feeling okay or nothing.
Thanks.
GForce
 
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